


Magical Nature.

by SaidbhinLuch



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mentions of The Second War, Potterlock, Potterlock Sherlolly, Romance, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaidbhinLuch/pseuds/SaidbhinLuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly and Sherlock have known each other since they were 11 and attending Hogwarts together. After Moriarty returns, Sherlock wonders if it’s time to tell John the entire truth about who he is. Molly encourages it. Flashbacks to The War, them trying to get their lives back, mentions of drug use, violence and Mary and Molly being sneaky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magical Nature.

‘You haven’t told him? Three years and nothing about who you are?’ Molly turned on Sherlock, clawing at the air. His eyebrow arched upwards. ‘You didn’t tell… Tom. Did you?’ She glared at him savagely; annoyed at the fact that he had a point. The pair were strolling around London heavily glamoured of course.

‘John would be fine with you as a wizard. He’s fine with an assassin as a wife. Why not a magical man as a best friend?’ She stopped at the side of the Thames, watching the fog begin to form. Sherlock sighed as he turned to look in the opposite direction to her.  She adjusted her glasses, watching him carefully.  It had been years since she’d worn her glasses out and about in the world.

‘You’re scared? Of what he might think?’ Molly could see the annoyance with her being able to read him so easily dance in his face. One side of his lips twitched. Now dark eyes, clouding.

‘You know what happened with Sherrinford.’ Molly grabbed his arm, squeezing his wrist in an attempt to be reassuring.  He leaned against the railings, staring up at the clouds.

‘ _He_ was, is, radically different. He couldn’t understand us. Not with The War. John would. He _will._ ’

——————————————————

Molly sat in the middle of her living room, almost completely catatonic. The Aurors had been in and gone, as had the police. The door burst open and two people entered. She didn’t even turn. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her.

‘He’s dead. They killed him.’ She kept muttering to herself, rocking back and forth. Someone picked her up and carried her out as she mumbled incoherently.

 _‘Sherlock, you can’t let her continue down this path!! She can’t handle it.’_ Molly woke slowly to hissed whispers that were growing beyond that. She looked down to see that she had been changed out of her bloody clothes. Pictures were scattered across the room, mostly muggle ones. Molly sat up, the effects of the past few hours (days?) and what felt like the remnants of a sleeping potion coursing through her system.

_‘You have always underestimated her. You and so many others have done that.’_

_‘Her father just died.’_

_‘Murdered. He was murdered.’_

_‘You don’t **know** that.’_

_‘I do, and so does Molly.’_

_‘This is the problem with you lot.’_

_‘You lot?’_ It wasn’t the first time she had heard them this argument, but she couldn’t deal with it anymore. She looked over at the bedside table, smiling at the picture that lay there. She picked it up looking at the three moving figures. Her, Sherlock and Sherrinford. They were all laughing, Sherlock the hardest of all. Molly stood, struggling with her heavy legs; stumbling towards the door.

‘Yes! You-’

‘Freaks?’ Molly tried opening it and leaning against the frame. The potion she had been given was strong, the effects heady.

‘Not what I-‘

‘Were going to say, the meaning was clear, however.’ They spoke as one, Molly blushing slightly much to her annoyance. They all turned as they heard Violet call for the boys to check on her. Sherrinford glared at his brother and turned without a glance to her. ‘It must be hard.’ Sherlock’s eyes were trained on his retreating brothers back. She bit her lip. It was strange for him to sound so… Understanding wasn’t the right word. _Empathetic_ , perhaps. Whatever it was, it was a new side to the ever increasing number to this faceted boy.

‘Being so close to a witch and wizard? Brother, boyfriend, unable to truly understand such a significant part of their lives?’ He hmm’d in agreement. He wasn’t wrong about his brother. Sherlock was such a towering force without the magic; with it… she couldn’t imagine how hard it was for him to be. Then there was Molly, who’d known Sherlock longer, spent far more time with his brother, even if she was dating Sherrinford. She tried to balance it out, but it was futile.

‘Come on. Mummy will be insistent on some tea.’

‘Your mum does make the _best_ tea.’

‘Oh you do know how to flatter a woman Molly. Now how are you?’ Violet was bustling down the hallway and waved off her complement.

It hadn’t gotten any easier from there. Sherrinford grew more and more uneasy about their magic and their relationship. Making sly comments and nasty retorts. Violet had not reacted well, yelling so loudly Molly had to wonder if she had latent magical abilities. There was no way in hell she could yell _that_ loudly and _not_ have cast a sonorous charm. Sherlock was attempting to give her a sense of normality, acting as though it didn’t affect him. Discussing the latest news on the war, theorising over Harry Potter’s involvement and of course; his investigation. Into her father’s death.

Mycroft, the brother she had yet to meet ( _“for the best” Sherlock told her one morning before potions after receiving a letter from him)_ was a somebody in the muggle British government. Sherlock had made use of his growing connections swiftly. Had even gotten in contact with some DI by the name of Lestrade who was working the case. Not much had turned up, not that she had expected it would.

Sherrinford wasn’t making it any easier. When his brother was not around; he insisted on treating like an invalid. Yes, she was grieving; but she was damned if she was going to fall apart at the seams.

After a few weeks, and NEWT year rapidly coming upon them, everything came to a head.

With an almighty bang.

Molly was sitting in the garden, finishing up a few final touches to her potions essay. Also prompting Sherlock to write it in the correct form, she was not going to be doing Prefect duties all by herself for the next two months, _thank you very much._ Sherrinford was off glowering somewhere, Violet humming to her left happily as she gardened. Sherlock tensed for a moment before flinging himself at Molly and his mother. Violet screamed as one of the towering oaks burst into flames. Both teens leap up, wands out trying to locate the attacker. Sherlock flung one arm out, trying his best to shield Violet.

A couple of Death Eaters disillusioned themselves and started hurling cursed at them. Molly, jumping behind Sherlock’s shield created two portkeys flinging one at Violet and running for Sherrinford. Sherlock would be fine. He was as skilled and as ruthless as Hermione Granger could be, and more than willing to bend the rules.

‘Molly what-?’ Sherrinford turned just in time as a cutting spell, lanced across the side of her face from behind, hitting him in the shoulder. He screamed as she flung back a few spells of her own, one hitting her target if the squelching sound was anything to go by.

‘GO JUST GO!!!’ She yelled as he tried to stop the flow of blood from his shoulder, reaching for her.

‘Come with me!!’

‘I can’t leave Sherlock here! NOW GO!!’ She shoved the necklace at him, activating it. The look of betrayal didn’t affect her in the slightest as she spun back to find Sherlock. The entire garden was in flames, fiendfyre. One of the Death Eaters stared at her before turning and disapperating.

 _‘SHERLOCK!!!’_ Molly found herself standing in the middle of the chaos, screaming, trying and failing to douse the flames. A quiet noise caught her attention. She held up her wand and tracked the location of the sound. Hoping and praying of course that it wasn’t the other Death Eater. The burning smoke singed her lungs, obscuring her vision the closer she got to it.

‘Molly?’ She spun round on hearing the cough. Could be Sherlock, if the smoke had time to have affected his larynx. Deep, rough, almost dangerous. She kept her wand up, in case there were any more ready to attack. Then she spied movement. Sherlock appeared, leaning heavily against the remnants of the oak tree. ‘Are you alright?’ He asked; voice barely human with the gravel like quality to it. ‘Fine, what about you?’

‘Possible internal bleeding, lacerations and several cracked ribs.’ Molly ran over and threw his arm over her shoulder. Frowning in concentration, she shut her eyes, trying to ignore the warm drip down her cheek and back. They appeared in a rather stylish apartment.  Violet, Sherrinford, Charles their father and another man, Mycroft, Molly assumed, were talking seriously. ‘I was aiming for Mungos! Sherlock!!’ Sherlock collapsed onto the nearest chair chest heaving. Molly hit one fist off of the side of her leg, glowering at him.

‘Sorry Molly, if they were able to find us at home, the Ministry has fallen.’ Her eyes closed. The future has she had planned it; evaporated.

‘Then we are as good as dead.’ She finished, face becoming stony. She could feel the two other boys stare at her, their parents’ faces falling. Charles pulled Violet into a hug; trying to reassure her. But she knew better. Molly smiled sadly at the woman who had become like a mother to her. Mycroft, face slightly more pointed than that of either of his brother. The intellect and intelligence woven into his very features. A discerning man.

‘We have to run, or go into hiding.’ All heads whipped round to Sherrinford whose face was just blank. A look he had never worn before. Molly was used to it from Sherlock, never Sherrinford. They were mirrors of each other. Sherlock hid his emotions, Sherrinford wore them freely.

‘We could fight.’ Sherlock countered, now getting angry.

‘You’ll die.’

‘We’ve survived thus far.’ Sherlock tried to get up, but Molly charmed him to the seat. Violet nodded approvingly. Molly reached over to her satchel which had been charmed, apparently, to return to Molly’s side. Extension charms cam in very handy she mused as she opened it, and summoning the potions she needed.

‘Luck. I can’t believe you’d put her in danger. Molly can-’

‘Speak for herself.  I can defend myself. I saved you and Violet!!’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘What? The fact that there is danger in this world; or the fact that I am capable of defending both myself and _you_? _’_ She turned, kneeling down next to Sherlock getting out the dittany, pain relieving potions and whatever else she could find. The pair stared at one another as she held up the dittany to stop the flow of blood from his neck. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head allowing her to treat him.

Even Mycroft showed surprise at her words. Sherrinford’s face collapsed looking completely heartbroken. ‘Fine get yourselves killed. See if I care.’ Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away getting Sherlock to take the pain potion. Violet and Charles went after their middle child. Mycroft sniffed, muttering derisively about sentiment and strolling off in another direction. Sherlock grabbed her hand, staring up at her apologetically. She shook her head as he squeezed once and let go.

Probably for the best she thought. If the Ministry had collapsed, they were all in a lot more danger.

Molly had lost enough.

———————————————-

The pair of them approached The Order and asked for assignments. Given their upbringing and continued muggle education, they went back to that world. A means of protecting the innocent. If they got word about an attack, they and others like them aimed to reduce the loss of life. They attended university, Sherlock became addicted to muggle drugs and Molly headed towards medicine. Sherrinford refused to speak to either of them ever again. Which made things awkward when she dropped in. Violet had ordered her in for regular visitations, and Mrs. Holmes was not a woman to be trifled with. It was also complicated by the fact that she and Sherlock lost contact for a while, Molly couldn’t bear to watch him destroy himself; the brilliant man growing inside him, the mind that was a marvel unto itself and the dedication to do anything with it, going to waste.

However when the call came from the Weasley twins; they ran into each other inside the Hog’s Head.

Molly couldn’t help but gasp as the bone thin boy stood next to Ron Weasley. Ron himself was quite thin, but that was clearly due to malnutrition and months on the run. Sherlock was just scarily thin, cheekbones threatening to slit through the skin on his face. Fingers so slim the slightest touch threatened to crush them. He turned to her, unable to keep the surprise from blossoming on his face.

‘Sherlock.’

‘Molly Hooper.’

The battle was furious and bloody. Sherlock was always nearby to cover her as she attempted to help injured people and she covered him when he attempted more than he could handle. The beloved castle was crumbling around them, people she had known and grown up falling and being torn to shreds in front of her. Children.  At one point she had been cornered, slipping out of Sherlock’s view. Cornered by former classmates, Nott, Goyle and Crabbe. Crabbe’s eyes slowly dragged over her frame, a disgusting idea blooming. They trapped her, ensnaring her and she held her wand behind her. Closing her eyes, she prayed for the strength to endure what may need to be endured and that she had the wherewithal to fight her way out of it. They hit her with numerous crucios and severed her clothes from collar bone to foot. Kicked her wand just out of her; grabbed, laughing as she tried to move towards it. Trying to hold her tattered clothes together; just with one hand as the other shook down the wall.. Crabbe ripped them open to the jeering eyes, scorning her existence, yet looking on her as just a means to an end. Their end.

Which was when Sherlock crashed round the corner, Goyle and Crabbe being knocked back as Draco Malfoy turned the corner. He looked at them, then at Sherlock who ran to her, beaten and exposed and sniffed turning away. She slid to the ground, barely able to breathe watching mutely as Nott’s chest burst open. Sherlock stood two wands in his hands, only his extended. His face twisted to hate and fury, as well as the over powering instinct to protect. He walked over to her calmly, but quickly brought her up to a seated position. With a gentleness she had only ever witnessed in him with Violet, he pushed back her hair. Healed her wounds, repaired her clothes. He guided her to her feet and stroked her cheek so softly; it might not have happened.

During the reprieve Sherlock stumbled on her vomiting outside the Great Hall. She looked at him, eyes widening at his trembles. He held out his arms to her, sleeves pulled up. She ran her fingers over the fading marks. ‘Rehab?’ She whispered in reluctant hope. He nodded slowly and she sobbed loudly leaping into his chest, clinging on for all she was worth.  He held her tightly, for once accepting the touch of someone other than his mother easily.

‘Potter’s gone.’ He muttered to himself, she nodded into his chest, still sniffling as she watched Neville and Oliver carry Colin Creevey’s body into the Great Hall. ‘Finally found out he was a horcrux.’ She finished for him, eyes closing as she felt Sherlock’s lip kiss the top of her head. ‘Should we tell…?’ Sherlock was clearly looking at Ron and Hermione who had left the hall, Ron holding onto Hermione for dear life.

‘No. They’d run straight after him. Harry is the only one who could survive. He’d _kill_ us if we did that.’

‘He would certainly put up a valiant attempt.’ Molly pulled away, but Sherlock kept one arm around her. ‘Thank you.’ Molly blinked in confusion, looking up at him. He was now watching Hermione and Ron, desperately trying to look down at her.

‘For what?’

‘Helping me. I saw the letters you sent Mummy, the ones you left in my room. I finally understood what I was doing.’ The words came out slowly, probably taking him a while to admit the absolute truth.

‘I’ll always help you.’ She looked up at him and smiled, feeling the tiny ball of hope blossom in her chest. ‘Thank you.’ She muttered back, letting the ball of hope dance. He knew that it was because he had not hidden her away from the fight after her attack. Molly would not back down from what she believed in, and he stood with her.

——————————————————-

And it was that little ball of hope that allowed her to continue her friendship with the ever baffling man that was Sherlock Holmes. After The War, Molly had decided to continue her muggle medical studies, theorising that through those methods the actions of the Adava Kedravra curse could be ascertained, and a means to stop it could be devised. Also she liked the hands on approach they took. She had grown up in the muggle world and she hated the lack of inventiveness and ingenuity that seemed interwoven in the magical community. Sherlock felt very much the same, working on his own means, but using his magic as a means of showing off. Creating an impossible man playing the impossible detective.

Yes, she had fallen in love with him somehow, somewhere along the line. In a way a part of her always had, something Sherrinford had always worried about. And, yes he used and abused it. It worked for their cover admirably. They hadn’t hidden their magic, but it never seemed to come up in conversation. Sherlock was from time to time called on by Harry Potter for cases and Molly was called into to help in the examination of murder victims, but those times were few and far between. Greg knew alright and Molly had told Meena back in Uni, but not many others in their adult lives knew.

Molly kept in contact with some of her old friends, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and Daphne Greengrass the most. Ron Weasley was her go to man for quidditch matches and she usually dragged Sherlock along with them; just to annoy him. She saw Violet and Charles every so often, but never heard from Sherrinford. She couldn’t say she blamed him, the air between the three of them would never settle, especially after she had gone and fallen for his brother after breaking his heart and making him the fool.

They weren’t as close as they once had been, the pull of cases sending Sherlock spinning off in one direction and the nice little life she had built up for herself; keeping her grounded. Her life at Hogwarts felt like a dream sometimes. The way they had once been but an echo to their current give and take relationship. Him taking everything; her simply giving it. Then she had deduced him, something she hadn’t attempted in a long time. And then she had helped save him, and they seemed back to their old selves again. Laughing together, solving cases and actually talking, or not talking about things. Even when Tom was around it didn’t affect _them_ in the slightest. With John and Mary, they were hanging out a lot more. It was nice. A lot more than nice. Molly had missed him in her life a lot more than she had initially realised.

It was a marvel that John had not figured out all of the abilities that his best friend had to offer. Mary had. Asking her to make varying baby related stains vanish one afternoon. The woman hadn’t even so much as batted an eyelid at the sight of Molly cleaning and charming some of little Rosie’s toys to twirl around her. She had, however, asked Molly to try and get Sherlock to tell his best friend about it.

_“It’s just between me, you, Mycroft and Sherlock, we have lied enough to him. I don’t know if I can keep this from him. I’ve betrayed his trust enough… I can’t do anymore. I need him, I love him more than almost anything and I know Sherlock does too… I think they need it.”_

_“I think we all need it Mary.”_

‘I know you’re wary about it, so am I. But it’s like Mary said, you both need _you_ to be honest. He’s not going to change after, more than likely he’s served with a few wizards… I think Seamus Finnegan joined up for a while, or was that Dean Thomas? Oh some Gryffindor anyway.’ Sherlock dug one hand into his pocket and pulled out a rather battered piece of paper. He looked down at his, face soften just a fraction. She leaned in and had to smother a gasp at the laughing picture he held in his hands. The three teenagers they had once been, plans to take on the world and stick together.

‘Of course as always, you’re both right.’ He sighed; resting his forearms on the railing. Looking out at the river; under his ever messy head of hair. Molly looked over at him, smiling and biting her lip. Resisting the urge to laugh as best she could. ‘As always? Didn’t Mary shoot you?’

‘You’ve hexed me more than once!’ He defended Mary and Molly just rolled her eyes shaking her head.

‘I’ve never perforated your liver!’ She placed a hand on her chest melodramatically, gasping.

‘Not denying you’re always right though.’ His eyes narrowed jokingly.

‘You said it not me.’ She smiled earnestly, earning a small one in return. Then the look of uncertainty returned.

‘So you think I should tell him?’ His words quiet and measured so unlike his typical swift pace of speech.

‘I _know_ you should tell him. Won’t change anything, other than John getting more paranoid about you slipping him things.’

‘It is child’s play that.’

‘I think it’s time to be honest with him. About everything.’ His eyebrows furrowed, eyes darting back and forth, processing the thought. His face screamed “ _are you quite sure about that?”_ and she nodded.

‘The entire tale.’ He was still unsure as to whether it was a good idea.

‘Our story. Yes. I played my part in lying to John all too well; we both know how that sits in the heart.’

‘Not easily.’

‘Beside, if he starts yelling and throwing punches, you can stun him.’ She attempted to joke, but knowing the story about to be told, she couldn’t help but twist.

‘Cheeky.’ This time her smile was true, humour bubbling away.

‘You are talking to the woman who hexed a Professor, or have you forgotten?’ Her brow arched upwards, lips curving up at one side.

‘Oh, Umbridge, that was a marvel. She had no idea why the cats had turn on her did she?’ He chuckled, a hand futzing with his hair, trying to neaten the curls.

‘Obviously not, otherwise I would have words carved into my hand.’ They both turned their heads to the left, blinking as Mycroft strolled over to them. Sherlock’s glamour faded quickly, with a small twitch of the hand. Molly removed her glasses, removed her own charms without a twitch, letting her hair fall down. Sherlock, let out a short puff of air through his nose, annoyed and swiftly turning back to himself, well, his newer self. 

‘Has the time come for the magical pair?’ He spun the brolly in his hand in a neat circle. Molly’s cheeks puffed up and she looked back out at the Thames, specifically the bridge, watching all those walking past. ‘You sound as though you are envious, brother.’ Mycroft sniffed, smoothing down the lapels of his coat. Sherlock did not look impressed or very well convinced by his eldest brother’s dismissal. Molly pulled out of bottle of water from her bag and took a generous sip. She had never developed the ability to be comfortable in these exchanges.

‘We should take our leave; there is a conversation to be had.’ Sherlock linked his arm with hers and escorted her away in earnest. Molly was barely able to keep up with his furious stride. ‘Is the show of confidence for Mycroft, or a way to convince yourself?’ She asked after they had darted some distance away; breathing a little heavier. Sherlock glanced behind them, and up at the cameras around them, glaring. ‘It may be some form of bravado, perhaps.’ He acknowledged looking resigned, shoulders tense. ‘Do you want to go now?’ She gestured vaguely in front of them. They started to walk on towards John and Mary’s. It was some distance from where they were so Molly intended to hail a taxi. However, Sherlock grabbed her hand and took a detour.

‘A pub. You want to get a drink?’ She stopped dead outside of the bar; face twisting in worried confusion. Sherlock had not let go of her hand; more so clutched it tighter and marched in. Molly tried to resist despite knowing it was pointless. He sat them up at the bar ordering neat whiskey for the pair. Molly pushed hers back and ordered a couple glasses of water. With Sherlock seemingly insistent on drinking himself to oblivion, she carefully and subtly shook wand visible. A holster given to her by Sherlock himself on her sixteenth birthday. Strapped to her right forearm and once on her arm and her own arm only, did it vanish and become unperceivable to anyone. All she had to do was shake her hand _just so_ and there it would be. Sherlock was distracted by the thoughts running through his mind so she was able to charm the glass containing his whiskey easily. And texted Mary with a little flick. The instant the text sent she knew that Sherlock was completely at odds with what was he was struggling with. They say there, Molly giving up and ordering a glass of wine for herself. Waiting.

 ‘What has- _Molly!’_ She stared up at him from under her eyelashes as he glared at her and at the glass. The bartender didn’t look fazed in the slightest. She took a sip, favouring it and looked at him. He tried to look annoyed with her, but was more annoyed with himself for allowing her to charm his glass without notice. ‘You have the sole ability…’ Molly’s head dipped forward to catch his words. Muttered into the glass of whiskey, drained of its alcohol. ‘I have what?’ There was that little smile, she had seen so rarely, one she glimpsed just so briefly she wondered if it was real. ‘To surprise me. No one surprises me quite like you.’ She winked, mock toasting him and laughed brightly.

The wine was light and refreshing, she sipped at it leisurely. Sherlock glared at his glass knowing that he’d be unable to remove her charms. ‘This completely defeats the purpose.’ Molly shrugged having perfected the process of charming glasses to remove alcohol content back in her early teens. Came in very handy during House parties.  ‘That was the point. Can’t have you out of your mind drunk, you’ll get the story all backwards. Probably get my part mixed up with Harry Potter’s, like the last time…’ She shoved him in the shoulder playfully, letting the slightly buzz of the wine flow. ‘I might have gotten _some_ details incorrect…’ She frowned at him, as he tried to act innocent about it.

‘You said I nearly swallowed a quaffle. Not only did you mix me up with Harry, you botched the story completely.’ Sherlock shrugged, ordering her another drink and fiddling with his phone. The door swung over causing Sherlock to turn to Molly in accusation. Mary skipped over towards them, dragging John behind her. It was truly amazing that at eight months gone she was bouncing around.  She sighed a little mournfully at the drink in Molly’s hand but shook it off.

‘Up, up.’ She gestured for them to get up and follow her as she moved to the back of the bar. John looked at Sherlock for an explanation, but found him staring at Molly’s glass wistfully. She picked it up, wiggled it a bit and followed Mary to the back. ‘Why do I get the feeling that I am also going to be needing a drink?’ ‘Because sometimes, and only sometimes; you are a wildly perceptive man.’ Sherlock muttered and Molly sent a light stinging hex at him, unnoticed by everyone. Well until Mary coughed unexpectedly. Of course she would notice. John looked confused as he best mate yelped, in a pleasingly high pitched manner, for no real reason. Mary called for another drink as Molly sat down opposite her.

‘Are you _trying_ to get me drunk?’ She asked as the wine appeared faster than Molly could accept as normal. Mary took a moment to think. Nodded and grinned deviously. ‘Well, you are a wonderful tipsy woman. And it seems Sherlock is incapable at this moment.’ Molly had to give her credit; she was a marvel, if not a bit morally abstract. Then again so was Sherlock.  ‘I think this is enough, and Sherlock has a tendency to mix up things when under the influence. He’ll get pissed later. And I’ll have to deal with _that_ and the hangover.’ Mary paused, a little bit of blonde hair falling forward into her face. Her head tilted little creases forming between her eyebrows. ‘Don’t you have something for that?’ Molly smirked, swirling her wine just a tad; turning to see John trying to talk to Sherlock. But his friend wasn’t having much of that, talking nineteen to the dozen about something, John hardly able to get a breath in let alone a syllable.

‘I do. Sherlock never bothered to learn, so occasionally I _forget_ some of the requirements.’ They both laughed as John sat down watching Sherlock suspiciously. Mary turned to talk to him quietly as Molly turned in her chair and glared. His eyes widened just a fraction and his curls shook a bit. She took that to mean _no_ , but she simply looked at him. He walked over, grabbed the back of her chair and made to argue but her face stopped him before his start.  Mary was smiling slightly at the pair, whereas her other half was blinking in confusion. Sherlock huffed then dropped, Shoulders, head and posture all deflating. He sat down next to her biting down on his lip in a mannerism far more fitting of her than him. He twitched nervously in the chair an awkward falling over the table. Molly folded her hands under the table not entirely sure what to do or say. John watched them both with a great deal of misgiving. Mary grabbed the hand that clenched in instinct on the table, gently stroking and squeezing it until it relaxed. Molly found herself fighting to not reaction visibly as Sherlock’s hand grabbed her desperately looking for strength. He took a breath, closing his eyes as his exhaled Molly squeezed his hand reassuringly.

‘John, there’s something I’ve avoided telling you for some time now.’ He started slowly; carefully Molly pulled his hand into her lap and grabbed it with her other. John tensed, Mary’s eyes widening in concern, Sherlock look to Molly who nodded. ‘I’m a wizard. And Molly’s a witch.’ John’s face entire pinched, and he twitched. Looking from one to the other slightly bewildered.

‘Both of you?’ It was Molly and Sherlock’s turn to look confused as they turned to each other, frowning. They spoke as one. ‘What?’ John shrugged gesturing a little at Molly. ‘I thought that you asked her for help for The Fall, because she was a witch.’  Mary look impressed and a little, well a little something, that Molly was not going to classify. Sherlock turned to her, she shrugged. ‘I suppose you want the story?’ John nodded slowly and Molly smiled softly.

‘I can’t believe he figured it out.’ Sherlock looked at her, face scrunched in baffled amazement. John’s face dropped and both men just stared at one another.  Molly stuck her hand up and ordered another drink.


End file.
